


i'm with you (this is all i do know)

by commonemergency



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 09:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13855446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commonemergency/pseuds/commonemergency
Summary: The sadness and pain that he feels always creep up on him when he leasts expects it, and he always thinks he’s immune to it because he’s gotten better, and he’s always surprised when he finds out that he isn’t.Or Dan and Phil impulsively go on holiday and try and work things out.





	i'm with you (this is all i do know)

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a rough week.
> 
> i don't know what this is either, but i like it. 
> 
> thanks to ale, **@aestheticale,** for reading this (and for reading anything i write).
> 
> st. agnes is a cool little village, i think dan and phil would like it.

_Heartbreak doesn’t make sense_ , Dan says, picking up a handful of sand, watching it slip through his fingers. Phil wonders if it’s cathartic for Dan to do that, watching something slowly slip past him, each piece of sand different from the last grab. Maybe he likes the way it feels against his fingers, it’s not the pavement that they’re used to because they’re not home. Dan has been saying a lot of words and Phil has been listening, watching as Dan avoids looking at him because he doesn’t want Phil to know he’s sad even though he’s already known for a while. 

It wasn’t planned to come here, it all happened within a matter of minutes, but Phil doesn’t think too hard on it, for someone who likes to have a plan and a schedule this is something that he let go because Dan needs it more than he does. He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t understand the way that Dan drowns, but he knows that Dan knows that he’s there, always lending a helping hand, always being that lighthouse when he’s gone out to sea, except it’s literally this time, at sea. 

It was long enough distance, with a quaint and big enough village with a nice little cottage for the weekend to rent and not that far of a walk to the beach. The first day all Dan did was sleep and he got up to go to dinner with Phil, and then came back. Phil had walked the village a bit, looking for tourists spots and grabbed a postcard and a magnet to put on their fridge to say that, _They Were Here Once_. When he got home Dan was on his phone playing a game and waiting for Phil to come back to bed so he could hold him. Sometimes Dan just needed to be held. 

Their apartment was feeling too small, London was getting to be too loud, was the best way Dan could describe it. Phil just thinks that it was another word for _heartbreak_ and _burnt out._

“It doesn’t,” Phil finally says, reaching out to put his hand on top of Dan’s. It’s a gentle gesture, one of the many gentle gestures that Phil has been giving him, because he doesn’t ask for it but it looks like he needs it.

The sun is going down and the people are packing up to go home, Dan and Phil want to savour this as much as they can. It feels peaceful out here, reminds Phil of how much he loves the seaside, he used to have a dream of owning a home by the ocean, because he could never get tired of the view but he knows that he’d miss London too much, it was everything they needed except for the times when they needed to be away from it. 

Dan has stopped watching the sand disappear from his fingers and has looked out at the ocean, watching as a couple takes a photo only for the water to sneak up behind them, they run away from it, and they kiss and he looks away because everyone deserves privacy. 

Phil watches them leave hand in hand, and he grips Dan’s fingers a little tighter. He’s lost in his own world again, only really looking at Phil to acknowledge that he was holding his hand. If it were the comfort of their own home Dan would lean against him, and want to talk about what hurt inside without feeling the kind of vulnerable he is right now.

It had been a rough couple of weeks, Dan was busy trying to figure himself out. 

He couldn’t see his therapist because they had gone out of town for a family emergency, while Dan understood- he had been having trouble, maybe it was because winter seemed to drag for so long and the promise of spring was around the corner and Dan felt like he didn’t tie up the loose ends with the winter, it didn’t feel right, and he wanted closure on things but never got it. 

It had caused an argument. Phil had rested a hand on Dan’s shoulder and said, _Life doesn’t give closure in a cute little box._

The way that Dan had reacted it was like Phil had slapped him. Dan had clenched his jaw, shook his head and walked out of the room needing to let off some steam. It hurt the way that he watched Dan put his phone on the charger knowing he was going to grab his coat and walk out the door. Phil didn’t know how to act sometimes, he felt like he was doing everything wrong, the fog that had once been lifted felt like it was back, making it hard for both of them to see and connect. 

When Dan had come back his cheeks were red from the cold and he walked passed Phil and up to their bedroom and slamming the door shut. Phil watched a television show on the couch and passed out there. 

While Phil was right with what he said, closure sometimes didn’t happen, he could have phrased it better, he could have given Dan his attention and said it when he was feeling better, he could have done a lot of things- but Dan had brushed it under the rug because he felt like he was the problem. They didn’t talk about it and they slept in the same bed that night. 

It was like that sometimes, and when that fog would temporarily lift Dan would reach out for Phil like he hadn’t seen him in a long time. There was nothing pretty with how he felt, and you couldn’t escape it no matter how hard you tried, but you could give it a better background. Phil wanted to think that the sea could do them some good. 

“Let’s go in the water.” Dan spoke up, getting on his feet and wiping the sand off, offering his hand for Phil to take. He held onto him a little longer, letting go a second after. 

When their feet hit the water, Phil yelped at how cold it was before immersing himself in the water like Dan, he watched how Dan went under and then on his back, his eyes casted upward at the beautiful sky. You didn’t get a view like this in London. There were too many lights and too many people.

“I guess one of the good things about Wokingham is how open it is. I remember my grandmum would take Adrian and I to an open field to play. She’d bring kites with her but we destroyed them before they got the chance to fly in the air. I remember one summer night I went out there with a couple of mates and we just stargazed.”

It’s always an interesting thing listening to Dan who didn’t talk much about his life in Wokingham, in the beginning he would give Phil parts of his history, but not all of it. He wasn’t proud of where he came from, but like with most things growing up, you learn to appreciate them when you’re older and when you’re gone.

*

When it got darker and colder they grabbed their towels and started to walk back to the village, to their cottage. It was quiet, the only sound being made from the pubs with the doors open, Phil looked in to see a mixture of locals and tourists, that was never their scene but Phil liked the image it brought, them sitting at the bar enjoying a drink together, pretending to blend in with the other burly men who came for a beer after a long day at work. 

Phil laced their fingers together when they got closer to the cottage, Dan had unlocked the door and the scent didn’t smell like home but it wasn’t unpleasant. Dan went to the bathroom to turn the water on and waited for Phil to join him in the shower that wasn’t big enough for both of them but they somehow always made it work. They had a system, and Phil wouldn’t lie when he thought it benefited him because he liked being able to take care of Dan like this especially when he wasn’t feel all that great. 

He was careful when it came to his curls, rubbing the conditioner at the tips and massaging his scalp, Dan seemed to wrap himself around Phil, the hot water against his back. Phil didn’t mind being cold, he was just glad that Dan was touching him again. 

When they used up all the hot water they went to bed, staring at each other in the dark, if they listened closely they could hear the same men laughing in the streets of the quaint village, and there was something comforting about that, how regardless of circumstances life seemed to go on as it normally did, whether you were newcomers or not, this was only temporary. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Phil whispered in the dark, his fingers reached out to brush Dan’s cheek. 

“No.” Dan says with a small, tired, sigh. 

“It seems like it.” Phil didn’t want to push it, but he hated going to bed feeling like Dan was holding something over him. 

“I’m not. I promise.” Dan reached to grab his fingers, pulling Phil closer to him so he could hold him. 

“What happened?” Phil asks, breathing in Dan’s scent, it’s the only familiar thing in this cottage so he clings onto it. 

“I don’t know.” 

*

Dan is up early, it’s six o’clock to be exact. He’s walking out the cottage, his phone in his pocket in case Phil wakes up and wonders where he’s gone. There are early commuters, shop owners, bakeries who are setting tables up outside for the new wave of tourists, but everything seems to be going by slow this morning. He nods his head towards an older couple who are taking their dog for a walk, thinking of how peaceful that looks, and how they probably have a schedule that they stick to. 

It’s down a path of houses, cars lined up and down the street and a tiny shop to the right before his feet hit the sand. He bends down to unzip his shoes and stuffing his socks inside and rolling his pants up a bit, the sand is cold, but it reminds him of being a teen, when his parents and grandmum would go on vacation and he didn’t want to get wet because it would mess up his hair and it just ‘wasn’t cool’, but he was always a water baby, he would find himself taking his shoes off and running halfway in with his brother splashing him because Dan was never as cool as he wanted to be, he was just a brother. 

He stands far away enough that he won’t be devoured by the water but close enough for it to blanket his feet, it’s cold to the touch but he likes it, the cold water helps ground him. He admires the way that St. Agnes is just starting to wake up, it’s quiet both out here and in his brain. He lets the cool of the wind blanket him like a hug and he reaches out to touch the water with his fingers. The sky is pink and orange, the sun inching its way up to greet the rest of the world. 

He thinks of the past couple of weeks leading up to where they were now, he thinks of how it always seems to happen that way; the sadness and pain that he feels always creep up on him when he leasts expects it, and he always thinks he’s immune to it because he’s gotten better, and he’s always surprised when he finds out that he isn’t. It’s easy to think that because life seems to be going your way you’re not capable of still feeling shitty, when the truth is everyone can be a prisoner. 

He hears footsteps behind him, he looks back to see Phil, with his big glasses on and his hands in his pockets. Dan notices that he kept his shoes on, he’s always hated sand in his shoes. He smiles a little at the image. Phil walks closer to stand next to him looking at the view in front of them. Dan can tell that he’s still tired, but probably worried for Dan. 

“You didn’t have to follow me.” Dan says, reaching out to rub Phil’s back. 

“I know. I wanted to.” Phil says with a yawn. They hadn’t been spotted on this trip, which was a blessing given how small the village was, Dan liked that there was a layer of anonymity being here. They could blend in with other tourists, and people could assume whatever they wanted without knowing their extensive history. 

Dan wraps an arm around Phil, feeling brave. Phil doesn’t stop him, leaning into the touch. It felt weird, very unlike them, but it gave him a taste of what could be. 

“What are you thinking about?” Phil asks, his thumb is circling around the small of his back. 

“I was just thinking of when we used to go to the beach and I didn’t want to get wet because I thought I was above family time, when all I really wanted to do was just get in the water and let it take me.” 

“Take you where?” Phil’s hand slides up his back, it brings chills to Dan’s spine, but it feels good to be touched and to be loved. It was like when this fog came it deprived Dan of feeling the warmth of another person. 

“Anywhere.” Dan whispers. 

*

They buy t-shirts that say St. Agnes on it, Dan’s shirt is a little big, he finds himself tucking it in at the front but letting it hang off his body. There’s a small change in his demeanor. He likes the fact that they’re matching tourists, but still don’t stick out. They take the camera with them to St. Agnes Parish Church, they’re not religious but there’s something peaceful about an empty church. 

There’s a bench that they sit under, enjoying the silence and the cool breeze with their legs stretched out in front of them. This was a different place for them to vacation. They liked going far, out of the United Kingdom because everything was too close to home, but this was far enough for Dan. They didn’t know when they were going back home, but Martyn had a key and could water Phil’s plants even though he knows that they’ll probably be withering away like the last time he had put his brother in charge of the plants. 

Dan and Phil hold hands, it’s not out of spite of the church, but it makes them damn happy to do it anyway. Phil holds Dan’s hand up so he can see, noticing how short his nails are due to anxiety, he brushes his fingers against the torn skin around the edges, Dan watches him, a small, sad smile appears on his face. 

“I’m sorry.” Dan says as they’re walking through the cemetery, trying to remember every single name that’s been left on a tombstone but it’s impossible, they’re just two people but they can try their best. 

“What are you sorry for?” Phil raises an eyebrow, his eyes stopping on a tombstone that has ivy growing over it, the name is barely readable, he bends down to brush his fingers over it only making out the word, ‘ _Tilly_ ’. 

“For just… how I’ve been acting.” Dan didn’t know how else to explain it. He didn’t know how to help it make sense. 

Sometimes Dan just hurt, and sometimes that hurt other people, and it dug its claws into someone else, and that someone else was Phil. He hated that it happened like that, hated that he felt such intense emotions, and he hated that he couldn’t always control them -- Dan liked controlling things and the fact that he was given this imbalance infuriated him. He didn’t know if he deserved it, but some days felt impossible. 

Phil could tell that this conversation had slowly been brewing for days with the way that Dan couldn’t look at him, like he was ashamed. Phil didn’t want him to feel ashamed. He walked towards Dan, holding his face in his hands for a moment so he could look at him. 

“I don’t mind, Dan.” Phil cleared his throat, it wasn’t an easy conversation. It never was. But those hard conversations had to happen or they’d never get through this thick fog that they sometimes found themselves in. It took a long time for them to realise instead of trying to figure it out on their own, they needed to help each other. “I’m trying to understand. I’m sorry that I don’t get it sometimes.”

Dan wiped his face, regardless of the fact that only a single tear fell down his cheek. He laughed lightly, like Phil knew he would. Dan squeezed Phil’s arms as a silent _thank you_ , and they moved on to look at the headstones in the back of the cemetery. 

*

There’s ruins of a Cornish tin mine with a spectacular view. It’s quite a walk downhill, but it’s worth it for the sunset. Dan poses in the doorway of the ruin, he’ll decide later if he wants to post it or not, he hasn’t really thought about social media, he knows that he’ll need to tweet soon to let his followers know that he wasn’t missing, but he’s feeling better about it anyway. 

“Come here,” Phil says, their backs to the sunset, their smiles are soft, eyes both tired but peaceful, like they had just gotten back from a long trip and they can settle down for a while. 

Phil stares at the picture for a second longer and Dan tugs him by the sleeve of his jacket. They’re standing on the hillside overlooking the body of water. Dan takes a deep breath, grabbing his phone to take a video. Whenever they go on vacation they always take pictures and videos of what they see, and they make their own video about it, while it’s never released to the public it’s just for their eyes only to say that _they’ve been there_. Together. 

“It’s funny how something like this can be beautiful.” Dan comments, looking back on the ruins, it was old, dating back 1800’s from what they overheard in the village. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking at Dan with a smile. “We can make a life out here. ‘Course we wouldn’t be able to stretch out our legs in that tiny little space but we’d have an amazing view.” 

Dan laughs shaking his head. It could be a good life. But they already had one, back home. 

They find themselves sitting on a patch of grass overlooking the water with perfect view of the sunset. If they listened carefully they could hear the sound of the children playing on the beach below them while they sat where people used to work once, they can admire it for what it is now, a memoriam of things passed. 

* 

It’s dark and windy the time they make it back up the hill and down the path back to the village. Shops have closed down but the locals are out at the pubs, Dan watches as Phil looks into the one pub with the door open and the music loud, and he stops them halfway to their cottage. Phil raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks. 

“Let’s get a drink.” Dan looks towards the pub they just passed, inching closer and closer to it. 

Phil shakes his head, “No, it’s fine--” 

“Come on,” Dan tugs Phil with him, not giving him the option to say no. 

Phil took risks for Dan all the time, and regardless if this was their last night here or not, he wanted to enjoy every minute of it, even if it meant experiencing something that they weren’t used to doing. 

They’re sitting at the bar, waiting for their drinks when Dan leans in to say, “Do you come here often?” It’s just enough to make Phil blush and place a hand on Dan’s chest. 

“Thank you.” Dan says, amidst the loud music and laughter in the background. When they looked at each other it was like they were the only one’s in the room. Dan wants to add: _thank you for everything, thank you for sticking by me_ , but he knows that Phil somehow understands. 

Instead, they lift their glasses to each other, taking a long drink and watching the live band play in the corner. When they finish they paid their tab and walk back home, feeling a buzz from either the drinks or just the fact that they made it. 

“Did you have a good day?” Phil asks, opening the door to the cottage. 

Dan doesn’t have to think about it. “I did have a good day.” 

Good days always came when you least expected it, Dan was starting to think. He wasn’t complaining. He had more good days to come. He was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr/twitter: **@nihilismdan.**


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